


The Hazards of Keeping Cats

by IrishWitch58



Series: Fortune and Love [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Veterinary Medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:50:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: This is set in the same universe as a previous story called Fortune and Love Favor the Brave. In it I decided Q's first name is Kit (short for Christopher ) and his cats are Nick and Nora because he likes old movies.Prompt fill for 007 Fest, #36 from the anonymous prompt table.





	The Hazards of Keeping Cats

James Bond was used to feeling completely competent in even the most bizarre situations. Nuclear bombs, exploding planes, underwater battle, freaking sharks – he had faced all of them and more with a sense of equanimity and confidence in his problem solving skills. He could cope with almost anything.

Now he was faced with something he could not fathom. He eyed the animal with complete dismay. The cat, Nick, had vomited on the hall floor. Four times. A prodigious quantity of semi digested yuck had been cleaned up already but as fast as Bond cleaned, the poor animal choked out another pile of the stuff. This was not good. Q was not due home for at least two hours and was in the middle of a bit of tricky business for 005's mission in Caracas. He needed to focus and Bond didn't want to disturb him. 

Bond had been living with Kit for a year and had become used to the occasional feline issue but this looked like something out of a horror movie. And there poor Nick went again, gagging and drooling. Bond needed to do the correct thing and quickly. The veterinarian's number was on the fridge and Bond dialed quickly. “Layton Veterinary Specialty. How may I help you?” The cheerful voice of the receptionist froze him. He had to say something sensible to get the correct care for Nick. 

“Hello, my name is Bond. I'm the partner of Mr. Ellicott. He isn't home and one of the cats is ill. I would like to bring him in.” That seemed coherent enough.

“ By all means but you will need to be here within forty minutes. We will be closing after that.” Bond looked at the clock, calculated the traffic and straightened his spine. He was an MI6 agent. He was a fucking 00. He could do this. “I'll be there.”

Wasting no time, he heaved on of the carriers out of the hall closet and left it open on the sofa and went in search of the cat. Nick was in the bedroom, having been sick again on the duvet, because of course it had to be the duvet. Clean up was going to be a nightmare. Bond hefted the kitty, who had grown used to him and was in no fit state to fight anyone just now. He resisted entering the carrier only slightly but 007 was not about to be bested by a fifteen pound fur ball. He gave a gentle shove, zipped the flap and grabbed his keys and phone. The carrier seemed a bit heavy when he lifted it but perhaps Nick had shifted his weight to one end, unbalancing it. Bond was not concerned with that. He was on a mission.

Once in the car, he used every skill he had ever learned in driving in hostile conditions. He mercilessly wove in and out of traffic, taking advantage of any hesitation on the part of other drivers. At one point he cut off a man in a vicar's collar who gave him a glare and what Bond tried hard to imagine was not a curse. He was blocked by a lorry, reversed, and swung into a side street causing a middle aged woman in a Mini to give him a one fingered salute. He heard nothing from the carrier, no more vomiting at least. He took another turn sharply and heard a chorus of horns and ignored them. He pulled into a space at the vet's surgery with ten minutes to spare, hefted the carrier and strode in to the front desk. 

My name is Bond. I called about Mr. Ellicott's cat.”

“Oh yes. Would that be Nick or Nora?” 

“It's Nick,” Bond replied.

The girl grabbed a large index card from a file behind her and pressed a buzzer. “Nick Ellicott to be seen.”

A young man with a shaven head and scrubs patterned in cartoon dogs and cats emerged from the door next to the receptionist and gestured at Bond to follow him. He led him to an exam room wit framed diplomas and testimonials from happy clients dotting the walls. “The doctor will be in shortly,” the young man promised. Bond placed the carrier on the polished steel table in the middle of the room and waited, wondering if the cats hated medical matters as much as he did. 

The vet breezed in a very little while later. She was a stocky woman with glasses wearing a smock with more animals on it. “I'm Livvie Smalls, Dr. Layton's partner. What seems to be happening with Mr. Nick, here?” She consulted the card that had been left, presumably Nick's records.

Bond liked her. Direct and calm. “It's my partner's cat. He's been vomiting quite a lot.”

She put the card down and opened the carrier. “Let's have a look, then.” She paused peeking into the carrier. “Which one is the patient?”

“The one in the carrier,” Bond said patiently, wondering if his initial trust was misplaced. 

“Yes, but which one?” She pointed and Bond leaned over to look as well. Two bewhiskered faces peered back. Nora had, apparently, hitched a ride. 

Bond sighed knowing he might have a hard time living this one down. “Nick's the bigger one. The other is a stowaway. She must have snuck in when my back was turned.”

Dr. Smalls chuckled and hauled Nick out of the carrier by his scruff while Bond quickly refastened the flap to keep Nora in. The vet examined Nick thoroughly, going back over his fluffy belly a second time and lifting his tail. “Well, I believe our fine sir here may have a little hairball issue. We'll fix you right up.” She leaned out the door. “Greg, we'll need an enema in here fro our Mr. Nick.”

Bond frowned. “Does that happen? I mean I've seen both of them throw a hairball occasionally”

She petted Nick soothingly. “It's happened to our friend here before. An issue with longer haired cats mostly. Most of the time, the vomiting does the trick but this seems to be a bit further down. An enema should make sure it comes out the other end. I'll recommend some preventative for the future. I'll see to out friend here if you'll wait in reception.”

Bond gratefully retreated to the waiting room, taking Nora with him. She poked at him and he opened the flap to pet her since they were the only ones still there aside from the receptionist. His phone rang an hour later. “James where are you? Where are the cats? The flat looks like the aftermath of a drunken party.”

“I'm sorry, Kit. Nick was ill and you couldn't be disturbed. I'm at the vet right now.”

“What about Nora? Never mind, I'm on my way.” Bond scratched Nora's ears and she purred obligingly at her usual window rattling level. Q was buzzed in little later. He spotted Bond and immediately looked around worriedly, 

“Sit down, love. It appears to be hairball constipation.” Bond was certain he had never expected to utter that phrase ever in his life.

Q sat and sighed, apparently relieved. “Furry bastard's had that before. He should be all right in a bit.” Nora, having sunk back into the carrier, now put her head back up for attention. Q rubbed a finger along her jaw, triggering another spate of purring. “Why is she here?” he asked.

“Because she's smarter than I am. I put the open carrier down and went to get Nick and never looked inside when I tucked him up. She stowed away and neither of them said boo.”

“How long has it been?” Q asked, eying the entrance to the exam rooms. 

“Two hours since I got here.” Bond inched a hand over the top of the carrier, Q returning the grip with a smile.

“Thank you for taking care of him.”

“I know what they mean to you, Kit.” and Q's smile broadened with the affectionate use of his given name. 

A few moments later, the tech poked his head out. “Mr. Ellicott, Nick's just finishing up. He was quite full and needed a bit of a wash up after.”

Q nodded. “Please take your time.” He leaned toward Bond. “Last time, he wasn't quite done, as it were, and the carrier was a right mess when I got him home.”

Bond shuddered. “I'm sure Nora and I would be grateful for due diligence.”The vomiting had been bad enough. The aftermath of a kitty enema didn't bear thinking of. 

Eventually Dr. Smalls beckoned them in. A much chastened and recently bathed Nick regarded them balefully from a cage where a dryer was turned on him. “It was indeed a hairball, Mr. Ellicott. I recommend a permanent change in diet and a daily dose of this.” She handed over a small tube. “It's a hairball remedy. Skip the dose if he has a day where he seems loose, bowel wise. This is a sample of the diet. It's readily available at pet stores or on line.”

Bond loaded Nick back in the carrier where Nora sniffed him with a degree of suspicion. Q paid the bill while Bond maneuvered the carrier and the bag full of food and medication to the car. Unlike the ride there, Nick seemed determined to voice his disapproval of the proceedings. Bond drove carefully, mindful that there was now no urgency and that he was in no hurry to get back to the flat and face the clean up. Still, when Kit smiled at him, with that particular light in his eyes, Bond was sure he'd deal with anything the cats managed to do. The rewards were worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> The bit with the stowaway cat is absolutely real. Some years ago, I requested my boyfriend take one of my cats to the vet for a steroid shot. I was working and she periodically needed these. He is a responsible adult and knew where the vet was. He placed the open carrier in the living room, retrieved the cat and placed her in the carrier. He felt it was a bit heavy but didn't realize what had happened until he commented to the tech in the office that Pandora was there for her shot. The tech looked in and said 'which cat?'. My boyfriend looked and saw that Nelson, then our youngest, had snuck a ride. The clinic had a very good laugh over that one.


End file.
